


Chou Chou

by IambicKentameter



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Confusion, Fluff, Grantaire teaches Ballet, Kid Fic, M/M, Nightmare Before Christmas - Freeform, Obliviousness, Senator!Enjolras, Uncle Enjolras, ballerina au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 05:18:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5079352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IambicKentameter/pseuds/IambicKentameter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras' five year old niece, Cecily Pontmercy, is currently enrolled in ballerina classes every Saturday morning. But as both Cosette and Marius have to work at that time, they've asked trusty Uncle Enjolras to take her there and back on Saturdays.</p><p>This is where he meets Grantaire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chou Chou

**Author's Note:**

  * For [they_hear_the_music](https://archiveofourown.org/users/they_hear_the_music/gifts).



“…And we’re doing this really cool musical! Mr. R cals it ‘Nightmare Before Christmas.’ But I dunno what that means. Uncle Enjolras? Are you listening?”

“Sure thing, Cecily.” Enjolras lied. He was focusing on driving, like a good Uncle, and not on the blabbering five year old, of whom was wiggling around in her carseat just out of his field of vision.

“You’re _not listening!”_ She pouted, her fists balling up and waving about. “You _never! listen!”_

_“_ Yes, I do, Cecily.” Enjolras fought back as he was always prone to do, but not with the usual fervor. See, Enjolras had gone up against many a fellow senator, and won, but it was hard for him to win against a five year old girl, as she didn’t use logic, reasoning, or lobbyists. Unless you count Cosette and Marius as her lobbyists.

After all, she was his five year old niece, and not worth the energy he would have to expel in that fight. He focused instead on pulling into the parking lot of Cecily’s ballet studio.

“Mommy says her _job_ is to listen to me.” She said, he hand clasped tightly in Enjolras’ own. “It should be your job too.”

“I’ll be sure to pick up an application.” Enjolras muttered under his breath while he held the door that led to the studio.

It was basic, just like the movies. Along the wall of mirrors sat a miniature version of the bars ballerinas used in all of the media Enjolras had seen. Several little girls in tutus were stretching on the floor, lead by one of their peers. 

Cecily was letting go of Enjolras’ hand before he could even say goodbye, and scampering off to be with her friends.

“Okay.” He said awkwardly to her retreating back. “Bye, then.”

~*~

When Enjolras returned a few hours later to pick her up, he was swarmed with parents and older siblings alike, as well as the elder students from the other classes flooding out of their studios and into their own cars. He waded through them cautiously, not wanting to shove anyone accidentally and risk them recognizing him as one of their state senators, and tweeting it or something equally terrible. 

He slipped into Cecily’s lessons room and immediately bumped into someone, someone in loose jeans that were obviously covering up the bottom half of his leotard, the top half of which was still visible under an unbuttoned flannel shirt. “Oh, uh, I’m so sorry.”

“Not at all.” The guy grinned. “I’m Mr. R, do you belong to someone in my class?”

Enjolras had to give the smallest smile at the phrasing of it. “Mr. R? That sounds right, uh, I belong to Cecily? Cecily Pontmercy?”

Mr. R nodded excitedly. “I know exactly which one she is. Little blonde girl, very stubborn?”

Enjolras nodded sheepishly. “That’s her. I’m pretty sure she gets both of those traits from her mother.” He quipped. Cosette was definitely the cause of the blonde hair, at least, the most obvious cause. 

Mr. R’s broad smile faded, if only slightly. “I’ll go find Cecily for you, alright, Mr…?” He trailed off, very plainly asking for Enjorlas’ name.

“Enjolras. I’m Enjolras.”

Mr. R nodded quickly before speeding off, wading through the mess of little girls until he found the one that Enjolras ‘belonged to’. 

She squealed when she saw him standing in the doorway, and immediately ran for him. He swooped her up as best he could on such short notice. 

“Hello there, _chou-chou.”_ He cooed, setting her down and taking her hand. “Are you ready to go home?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Thank you Mr. R! I’ll see you next Saturday!” She waved to him exuberantly as Enjolras walked her out. 

~*~

Enjolras forgot about his banal encounter with Cecily’s ballet teacher until the following Tuesday, when he was in the cereal isle, trying to pick something healthy but not _too_ boring, as his friends were want to call him.

He was, however, dragged from the debate over Frosted Mini Wheats vs. Special K by someone calling his name.

He turned around to face the man across the aisle who very cautiously said it again. “Uhm, Mr. Enjolras?”

“Just Enjolras.” He waved his hand passively. 

“Hello, hi, I’m Grantaire.” The boy crossed the aisle in all of three steps, holding out his hand to shake. “You… You belong to Cecily, don’t you?”

Enjolras blinked at him, realizing at last who this overly excited man was. “You’re her Ballet Teacher, erhm… Mr. R?”

“That’s right.” He beamed. “It’s the shortened version of my name, _Grand-R.”_ He chuckled at his own, private pun. “Anyway, hello.”

“Hello.” Enjolras realized he was still shaking Grantaire’s hand. He withdrew awkwardly. “So, uh, Cecily really likes your class. She loves the show you’re putting on.”

“Really? I was nervous that the kids wouldn’t like it. It’s more of a cult classic for teens, you know?”

Enjolras shrugged. “I’ve never heard of it, until Cecily said something about it.”

“Have you ever seen it?”

Enjolras shook his head. 

Grantaire beamed. “I was thinking of screening it at the ballet studio for the kids, but I might need another chaperone…”

“Yes.” Enjolras interjected without thinking, without even letting Grantaire finish. “I’d love to. That would be… fun. Really fun.” He trailed off awkwardly.

“Oh, thank god!” Grantaire exclaimed, shaking his fists in the air with gusto. “Oh, what are the chances of us running into each other?”

“In a public grocery store? In the neighborhood where I live?” Enjolras responded, 40% sarcasm and 60% Confusion. 

“Oh. Oh yeah. Got it. Anyway, uh, I’ll see you the next time you come to pick her up or drop her off, and by then I’ll have the set date for the, uh, viewing.”

“Why don’t I just give you my phone number?” Enjolras offered quickly. He needed to be going, he had a big proposal to prepare.

“Oh, of course!” Grantaire passed his phone over eagerly. “I’ll text you my name so that you know it’s me.”

“Practical.” Enjolras commented neutrally as he typed in his number. “There you go.”

“Thank you so much, I was really scrambling for another parent volunteer, thank you!”

And then Grantaire was gone, before Enjolras could explain to him that he wasn’t actually Cecily’s father. Oh well.

~*~

The next day, while Enjolras sat quietly in the Senate chambers, listening to his fellows and waiting for his turn, when his phone vibrated against his leg. He turned away from the Senate proceedings to check the screen, and seeing that Grantaire’s name was bolded in white above the text message, he opened it. 

“Enjolras!” Combeferre hissed, getting Enjolras’ attention away from his phone for half a second. “What are you doing?”

“Checking my phone?” He said obstinately, as it was obvious what he was doing and he never liked leading questions.

Combeferre rolled his eyes, but Enjolras continued on with his task, opening the message from Grantaire.

**_Grantaire, 12:55pm_ **

**_I might be tipsy right now, but did I just see you on tv?_ **

Enjolras typed a quick response, trying not to incur too much of Combeferre’s wrath.

**_Enjolras, 12:59pm_ **

**_Depends, were you watching news coverage_ **

**_of today’s senate debate or something?_ **

**_Grantaire, 1:02pm_ **

**_Yeah, how did you know?_ **

**_Enjolras, 1:23pm_ **

**_Seemed the most logical reason for you to_ **

**_have seen me. I am a senator, after all._ **

**_And I did just give a debate speech this morning._ **

**_Grantaire, 1:24pm_ **

**_It must have been very good. The news caption_ **

**_said something like ‘Republicans hold no_ **

**_defense to handsome Democratic senator,_ **

**_Voters left speechless.’_ **

Enjolras had to put his phone away to deliver another speech, one that was a bit slap-dash and unprepared, less passionate than usual. He had been paying attention to his phone rather than the debate. Oops.

**_Enjolras, 1:38pm_ **

**_It did not say that._ **

**_Grantaire, 1:39pm_ **

**_My bad, did I say they said that? Typo. I said that._ **

Enjolras had to cover his mouth so he didn’t chuckle too loudly.

**_Enjolras, 1:45pm_ **

**_‘Handsome’?_ **

**_Grantaire, 1:46pm_ **

**_Your honour, defense is very drunk right now_ **

**_and cannot be held responsible for his_ **

**_outbursts of flattery._ **

**_Enjolras, 1:56pm_ **

**_That’s lawyers. I’m not in court, I’m in the Senate._ **

**_Grantaire, 2:00pm_ **

**_Defense rests._ **

Enjolras rolled his eyes and stood at the adjourning of their summit, packing up his papers and setting down his phone on his desk for half a moment to adorn his suit jacket. It was in that fateful half a moment that Combeferre snatched up his phone and smirked. 

“This is who you’ve been texting while you’re meant to be finding holes in the bills proposed?” Combeferre scrolled through the texts, fighting off a much shorter Enjolras, who was trying to get his phone back. “He’s kind of funny.”

“You’re kind of vexatious.” Enjolras shot back. “Give that here!”

“Absolutely not.” Combeferre smirked, using his hand that was not occupied by fending off a finicky Enjolras to type a message out.

Enjolras didn’t stop fighting until he heard the definitive ‘ _whoosh_ ’of the phone sending a message. He stood completely still, shocked. “What have you done?”

“I’ve just texted the funny man back, is all.” Combeferre said cutely, a smug grin on his face.

“No!” Enjolras frowned. “What did you say?!”

“All I did was invite him out to lunch, that’s all.” Combeferre smirked. “We were all going out anyway, might as well invite the man. He’s probably hungry.”

Enjolras snatched his phone back from his friend. “That was uncalled for.”

“As if you would have had the courage to do it yourself.” Combeferre chuckled and collected his things, folding his blazer over his arm. “Come on, we’re going to miss happy hour at the Musian.”

Enjolras sighed. “I don’t drink.”

“Happy Hour includes half price appetizers.” Combeferre grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him out of the building. 

~*~

“Is that him?” Combeferre craned his neck to see as yet another person walked through the front doors of the Musian. 

Enjolras twisted to check. “Combeferre, that’s a woman.”

Combeferre snorted. “I know. But maybe I wouldn’t have to ask about everyone who walks through the door if I just had a picture of the man.”

“I don’t take pictures of everyone I meet, Combeferre. He looks kind of… Starving Artist, in a way.” Enjolras rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help himself- he looked up the next time the door opened. “That’s him! Combeferre, that’s him.”

“You didn’t tell me he was handsome.” Combeferre hummed and stood, waving to Grantaire and signaling him to come over and sit.

“I shouldn’t have to bring that up.” Enjolras grumbled. 

“You don’t deny it.” Combeferre said through his teeth just as Grantaire sat down with them.

“You ordered drinks without me?” Grantaire feigned disappointment. He waved over to the bartender, who brought him something that was on tap.

“Combeferre, this is Grantaire.” Enjolras interjected without any prompting. “Grantaire, Combeferre.”

The two greeted each other awkwardly, and silence befell the table.

“So…” Grantaire said awkwardly, fishing for something more to say. “You all work together?”

“Of course.” Combeferre said, somewhat condescending in his manner. 

Enjolras cleared his throat, trying to call Combeferre off the hunt, so to speak. “We do. We’re senators, but I’m sure you knew that, due to this morning’s news.”

“I was shocked by the lack of curly white wigs, to be honest.” Grantaire grinned, sipping his beer casually.

“That’s parliament.” Combeferre corrected flatly.

“Sorry, then.” Grantaire rolled his eyes, casting his gaze off to the side. “I’ve only seen the British version of House of Cards.”

“American Version is better.” Combeferre said instantly.

“Could you stop, please?” Enjolras snapped.

Grantaire’s eyebrows raised in sheer shock at Enjolras calling his friend out.

“Sorry Enj, what seems to be the problem?” Combeferre shot back.

“You’re hounding him!” Enjolras grit his teeth. “Can he not say anything right in your eyes?”

Combeferre smirked. “So, the shoe is on the other foot.” He set down his glass and leveled Enjolras with a mischievous look. “Every time we go out with Eponine,” He turned to Grantaire briefly. “That’s my girlfriend, see,” And back to Enjolras. “You can’t seem to find anything nice to say to her face. Doesn’t feel so nice, does it?”

Enjolras frowned at him. “How very childish of you.” He said stiffly.

Combeferre gazed at him expectantly.

“And I’m sorry for the way I treat Eponine.”

Grantaire cleared his throat. “Hello, still here, just a quick question, would this Eponine be Eponine Thénardier?” 

Combeferre blinked at him, shocked. “You know her?”

“Eponine is a very good friend.” Grantaire sipped his beer casually. He’d almost finished a whole pint in the 15 minutes they’d been sitting, and their food hadn’t even arrived yet. “I watch her younger brother often, so much that I’ve enrolled him in some of my classes.”

Combeferre snorted. “I thought you taught Ballet.”

“I do.” Grantaire nodded. 

“And little Gavroche is alright with being a ballerina?”

“He’s in an all-boy’s class, I’ll have you know.” Grantaire chided. “And it’s mixed media. He learns ballet, breakdancing, vogue, anything they want to learn. Keeps them out of trouble after school.”

“Wow.” Enjolras mumbled.

Combeferre chuckled. “You are aware that you just said that out loud?”

“I am now.” Enjolras cleared his throat, and their food arrived, just in time to save him from explaining his subconscious actions. Grantaire didn’t seem to mind. He was too focused onEnjolras, fixated on him, even. Enjolras tried not to notice and lose his cool.

~*~

Enjolras pulled up to the studio the night of the screening of _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ , the suspiciously dark studio, and parked out front. 

Grantaire was standing outside with several young girls standing around him, all wandering around in the fading sunlight with the same, petulant “I’m bored” looks on their faces.

Cecily got out of the car first and scampered over to her friends, joining them in their complaining. 

Enjolras followed her and tapped Grantaire on the shoulder, interrupting him, as he was on the phone.

Grantaire hung up the phone and sighed. “Hi, Enjolras.” He said sadly.

“What’s going on?” Enjolras frowned.

“We can’t use the studio to watch _The Nightmare Before Christmas_.” He sighed. “The owner already locked up and now we don’t have a place to watch the movie.”

“Oh, no.” Enjolras dragged him aside so that the girls wouldn’t overhear. “You don’t have keys or anything?”

Grantaire shook his head. “Nope.”

And she can’t come back and open up the studio?”

“Not a chance. She claims that she already has the kettle on and _Jane the Virgin_ is going to be on tv soon.”

“Bitch.” Enjolras muttered under his breath. “Can we call their parents? Have them come get the girls?”

Grantaire shook his head again. “I can’t do that to them.”

Enjolras hummed and ran a hand through his hair. “I think I may have an idea.”

“Please, anything.” Grantaire pleaded.

“How many can you fit in your car?”

“Five, why?” 

“Me too. Usher them in, and follow my car. I think I have a place.”

~*~

“Wow.” Grantaire said as he stepped out of his car, beaming. “Are you sure we can get in?”

“People work late here all the time.” Enjolras assured him. “None of them are government officials, but…”

Grantaire laughed loudly, really letting loose in the wide open and empty parking lot of their city hall. “Good one.”

Enjolras looked confused. Apparently he’d been serious. “Uh, Thanks. C’mob girls, there’s a movie theatre on the first floor!”

They all cheered and filed into the building, which was left unlocked by some of the folks still working in the offices upstairs. 

“Is it really a movie theatre?” Grantaire asked, confused. “Is that what our government is spending money on?”

“It’s just an Auditorium.” Enjolras assured him as they followed the girls in. “But it has a screen, ideally for power points and such, but I think we should be able to queue up Netflix on it and find your movie.”

Grantaire tilted his head, perhaps to look at Enjolras better. “You know it’s on Netflix?”

Enjolras nodded slowly, ducking his head to hide his blush. “Yeah, I looked it up the day I ran into you at the supermarket. It sounded interesting, so I-“

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” Grantaire exclaimed. “We could have been talking about the movie this whole time, you should have said something.”

“It didn’t come up.” Enjolras shrugged as they entered the auditorium.

“Because you didn’t bring it up!” Grantaire laughed as he said this, so Enjolras could be sure to hear the teasing in his voice. 

Enjolras was too distracted trying to set up the movie to come up with a clever comeback that he didn’t have a response.

By the end of the opening song, Grantaire and Enjolras were settled in the back of the auditorium, sitting far enough up that they could see the girls perfectly without “Crowding their space” or whatever Grantaire was concerned about when he dragged Enjolras up to the top.

“So…” Grantaire said softly, even though the movie’s music was loud enough that they wouldn’t be heard even if they were screaming. “You’ve seen the movie?”

“We’ve established this.” Enjolras rolled his eyes. “What’s your point?”

“Well, if you’ve already seen the movie, you don’t have to pay attention to it this time.” Grantaire leaned towards Enjolras, his voice getting softer so he wasn’t yelling in Enjolras’ ear. 

“I don’t have to, no.” Enjolras found himself drawn to Grantaire, found his eyes fluttering shut inexplicably and their lips meeting briefly.

Grantaire pulled away first. “I’m sorry, was that you saying that you don’t have to watch the movie but you still want to, or you don’t have to watch it and we can make out?”

“The latter.” Enjolras said breathlessly, and their lips were pressed together again before he had a chance to inhale again.

This time it was desperate, deep, each taking turns nipping at the other’s lips, their tongues meeting in the middle for brief moments every so often. Enjolras buried both hands in Grantaire’s mess of curls, encouraging the other to gravitate even closer, effectively knocking both of them to the floor.

Enjolras pulled away at that, startled. “Oh my god, what am I doing?”

“You’re kissing me, for one.” Grantaire answered petulantly. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve worked here.” Enjolras whispered, sounding haunted. “This is a professional establishment and we’re making out like horny teenagers in the back of a movie theatre.”

“If I walks like a duck…” Grantaire chuckled to himself.

“I’m sorry, Grantaire, I can’t do this.” Enjolras muttered. “Not here. I’m sorry.”

~*~

When he picked Cecily up a few weeks later, she toddled up to him with tear stained cheeks and a bandage wrapped around her elbow.

Enjolras picked her up and held her close, wandering through the sea of children to find Grantaire.

Grantaire was still in his studio when he finally found him. “Enjolras! It’s so good to-“

“No.” Enjolras snapped.

“I’m sorry?” Grantaire looked confused, but his smile never fell.

“What happened?” He pointed to Cecily’s bandaged elbow.

“Oh, she just fell over and scraped her elbow, it’s not a big deal, I-“

“How is this not a big deal?! She’s got gauze on her arm!” Enjolras gestured to it angrily.

“I just ran out of bandaids, Enjolras, and she wanted that one!”

“I did!” Cecily piped up. It makes me look cool!” She tugged on his shirt. “I want to go hoooooommmmmeeee! I want to show mommy!!” She squealed, bouncing on his hip.

Enjolras shushed her and leaned into Grantaire’s personal space. “You are supposed to keep her safe.” He hissed, then pulled away and marched out of the studio.

Cosette nearly had a heart attack when she saw her little girl all bandaged up, but Cecily explained in semi-believable detail that Mr. R had just run out of little girl bandaids and gave her a ‘big girl bandaid’ instead.

“He said it makes me look hardcore!” She giggled, climbing onto the couch next to Marius. “Daddy, what does Hardcore mean?”

“It means you’re very brave, _chou-chou.”_ Marius kissed her head.

Enjolras looked away from them for a brief moment to check his buzzing phone. Combeferre probably had something to say. 

Unfortunately, it was not from Combeferre, or anyone from work, for that matter.

**_Grantaire, 4:56pm_ **

**_I’m sorry about Cecily, really. She only_ **

**_cried for a few minutes, so I thought she would be fine._ **

Enjolras ignored the text in favor of his adoptive sister, her husband, and their child. Cecily continued to babble on about her part in the Recital, as she would be playing the Mayor of Halloween Town, something she was very proud of, as she was ‘Just like Grandpa!’ and therefore better than all of the other children.

His phone buzzed and he couldn’t ignore it again.

**_Grantaire, 5:07pm_ **

**_Are you coming to Parents Day, by the way?_ **

**_The kids are going to teach their parents_ **

**_one of the dances, and I’m asking around_ **

**_to make sure every kid has a parent there._ **

**_It’s next week._ **

Enjolras sighed. There was no way Cecily had remembered to tell her parents that. Teachers should stop trusting five year olds with vital information. “Apparently next week is Parents Day in Cecily’s class.” Enjolras interrupted them.

“Yeah!” She bounced on the couch, only to be settled down by her mother. “I get to show you one of my dances and teach it to you!”

“Oh, that sounds lovely!” Cosette cooed. “When is it?”

“Next Saturday.” Enjolras said grimly. 

Both Marius and Cosette’s grins fell in dismay. They would have to disappoint their daughter. “Oh, I think I have to work that day…”

“That’s okay!” Cecily took one hand from each of her parents. “Uncle Enjolras can be there! Mr. R likes him anyway.” She grinned. “You’ll still see my Recital?”

“We’ve already taken days off for it, _Chou chou.”_ Marius assured her. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Enjolras sent one last text message to Grantaire that night, before getting in his car and heading home.

**_Enjolras, 6:15pm_ **

**_What happened with Cecily wasn’t_ **

**_your fault. I’ll see you next week,_ **

**_for Parents Day._ **

~*~

“Welcome, Parents!” Grantaire hollered over the rustle of children and their parents. And Enjolras. Enjolras was there as well. Not a parent, but there. “As some of you know by now, I’m Mr. R, and I’ve been your children’s ballet instructor for about ten weeks now. Right now in class, we’re working on _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ because of its Halloween theme, in celebration of the season. So, today is about your little Prima Donnas showing you what they’ve been learning, and teaching you some steps as well. So, ladies?”

He clapped his hands and they broke off into tiny groups of two or three. 

“Let me show you the six positions, Uncle Enjolras!” Cecily giggled, dragging him to the corner and showing him the proper way to stand, Which he found some difficulty with, as he was in tennis shoes and jeans, and she was in all of the proper clothing.

By the time she was showing him the third stance, Grantaire had sauntered over to the two of them to check on their progress.

“She’s a wonderful teacher.” Enjolras grinned and ruffled her hair.

“Mr. R, can I go to the bathroom?” Cecily tapped his kneecap politely. “I can go by myself, but I need someone to watch _him._ ” She pointed up at Enjolras with a snap.

“Of course, I’ll keep him company.” Grantaire grinned. 

She toddled off; the two of them watched her go.

“Cute kid.” Enjolras said affectionately, but didn’t get the chance to say much else.

“Is she still in the picture?” Grantaire asked suddenly, turning full circle to stare Enjolras directly in the face, serious now for reasons beyond Enjolras. 

“Is who in the picture?” Enjolras frowned, confused.

“I mean, I gathered that you’re divorced; you don’t have a ring and you’ve been flirting with me pretty heavily, unless you’ve been playing me.”

Enjolras was trying to keep up with this thread of logic, but as it was kind of wavering and hard to follow, he was a little bit behind. “I’m not divorced…”

“Separated? Please say separated, because I really can’t deal with some married guy flirting with me for shits and giggles.”

Enjolras blinked, collecting his thoughts. Grantaire knew he’d been flirting? Well, obviously, they’d gone to lunch together, they’d kissed they hadn’t stopped texting… no, that’s not what was important here. “Are you asking if I’m married?”

“Yes, to an extent.” Grantaire sighed, exasperated. “Are you?”

“No, not at all. Never have been.” Enjolras said slowly.

“So, you had Cecily out of wedlock, maybe?” Grantaire was prodding now, really trying to figure _something_ out, but Enjolras couldn’t decide what.

“I… I didn’t have Cecily at all.” He said slowly. “She’s not… mine? Where are you going with this, Grantaire?”

Grantaire let out a long sigh of relief. “You’re not her father?”

“Uncle.” Enjolras corrected. “Is that what you’ve been trying to ask? If I’m Cecily’s father and if I’m still with her mother?”

“Yes!” Grantaire’s voice neared a shout, and the entire room paused to investigate the disruption. Grantaire blushed. “Sorry, Sorry folks, please, continue learning from your daughters.”

Cecily, who had reappeared from the bathroom at some point in their conversation, tugged on Enjolras’ pant leg. “Uncle Enjolras, just tell him about my Daddy and my Mommy.”

Enjolras frowned down at her. “What did we say about giving me attitude?”

“You make things so hard on yourself.” She crossed her arms. “Daddy says that’s called being ordinary.”

“Your father means ornery.” Enjolras rolled his eyes.

“Oh.” Grantaire blushed furiously and dismissed himself to go help some of the other parent-daughter combinations with their dances. Enjolras suspected that it was more of a ploy to get himself out of an awkward conversation.

He sighed and took Cecily’s hands, allowing her to show him how to do the ‘proper spin’ and ignoring his crushing disappointment at Grantaire running away.

~*~

For some reason unknown to Enjolras, Cecily decided to take her good sweet time packing up her things that afternoon, leaving Enjolras to putz around after her and try to avoid awkward eye contact with Grantaire. He wanted to talk to him, of course, but it was just a bit strange that he thought Enjolras was Cecily’s father, and therefore was a bit disorienting. Enjolras just needed time to recollect his thoughts.

Grantaire, apparently, wasn’t into giving someone else time, seeing as he took the opportunity of Cecily’s dilly-dallying to approach Enjolras. 

He decided to start with “So, Uncle Enjolras.” as his ice breaker.

“That’s me.” Enjolras said awkwardly, helping Cecily tie her light-up red sneakers. “I’m the Uncle.”

“Mom’s brother or Dad’s brother?”

Enjolras shook his head. “Adopted brother of her mother, Cosette. She actually met Marius through me, we were friends in college.”

“So, your college buddy boned your sister.” Grantaire grinned.

“I’d like to think it was only the one time—and then Cecily happened.” Enjolras chuckled.

“So, how did you end up with her?” Grantaire asked. 

Enjolras shrugged. “They both work weekends, so I have to watch her every now and again.”

“She doesn’t have grandparents?” Grantaire asked softly.

“Just one grandfather.” Enjolras leaned in. “But I’m sure our city’s lovely mayor has more important things to do than watch his granddaughter every single weekend. Not that he doesn’t love to do it from time to time.”

“I think it’s adorable that you watch her. Even if three hours of the day that you’re watching her, _I’m_ technically watching her, but that’s beside the point.”

“What is the point, Grantaire?” Enjolras asked playfully, wanting him to get to the part where he confessed his feelings or they grabbed coffee or whatever was supposed to happen in the movies.

“Okay, I’m just going to say it, then. I really like you. I look forward to Cecily being dropped off and picked up just so I can see you. I like our long looks, and all the late night and aren’t-you-supposed-to-be-fixing-our-government-right-now texts, and I just… I really like you.”

Enjolras bit his lip and nodded quickly, not sure if he was agreeing or why he was doing in the first place. “Yeah, Yeah, me too. To all of those things.”

Grantaire gave a huge sigh of relief. “Wow, would you want to grab coffee, or lunch? No, we already did lunch, and movies, and we’ve already-“

“My place.” Enjolras cut him off. “Tomorrow night.”

“I’ll make dinner, bring it over?” Grantaire offered, grinning like a mad man. 

“Bring over an extra shirt, too.” Enjolras’ smile turned sultry. “You know, just in case.”

Grantaire blushed and nodded eagerly.

“Ugh, finally.” Cecily groaned, marching over, a hand on her hips. “I can only tie my shoes so many times, Uncle Enjolras.”

“So this was on purpose?” Enjolras picked her up and spun her as a ‘punishment’. “That was very devious of you, _chou chou.”_

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She waved him off. “But now you have a date!”

Enjolras’ eyes gravitated to Grantaire and rested on him warmly. “Yeah, I do.” He smiled.

~*~

Grantaire proposed the night of the Halloween Ballet Recital in an entirely too public way. Enjolras turned him down.

He popped the question again two months later, at the Christmas Ballet Recital. Enjolras shook his head from the very front row, but he wasn’t as jarred as the first time. 

At the St. Patrick’s Day Ballet Recital, Grantaire took the stage when the girls were finished and announced to the same set of parents and loved ones that had come the last few recitals that he wouldn’t be proposing to Enjolras that night, as he’d already accepted a few weeks earlier.

They were married in Cosette's backyard that July.

 

**Author's Note:**

> In case anyone was wondering, Chou Chou is an affectionate French term for little cute things. The direct translation of Chou Chou is "Cabbage".


End file.
